


His Battered Lover

by zaniamsextoy



Series: One-Shots [6]
Category: One Direction
Genre: M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Spanking, Trigger Warnings, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-16
Updated: 2013-06-16
Packaged: 2017-12-15 04:44:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/845460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zaniamsextoy/pseuds/zaniamsextoy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Zayn gets spanked by Harry after he ruins Niall's birthday and calls Louis the "f" word.</p>
            </blockquote>





	His Battered Lover

**Author's Note:**

> This is a non-con fanfic that I wrote as a prompt to a fellow writer on Wattpad. Please don't read if it triggers you. Also for all those who do read it, please be aware that this is completely fictional and that rape itself is a horrible offense to a women and men. No means no.

Centered in the heart of London, in a cozy Victorian-styled home, a soft glow illuminated from the two-tier chocolate cake, Louis Tomlinson, one-fifth of One Direction, had spent the entire afternoon preparing. 

Today was Niall Horan’s birthday and the lads took the day off, from fans, appearances, interviews and practice to decorate their home with blue streamers, giant balloons and a banner which read “Nialler’s Eighteenth Birthday.” 

This was a special event because Niall was the last boy to turn legal. Harry Styles, Liam Payne and Louis Tomlinson were all twenty, and Zayn’s eighteenth birthday had passed at the beginning of the year. After today, all the boys of One Direction will be able to drink, party and dance their asses off till the break of dawn. Not that Niall had a problem getting his hands on alcohol. He was Irish after all. And a superstar around the world. Everything came easy to them. 

In preparation of the party, Harry catered food from Niall’s favorite restaurant, Nando’s, Liam brought an assortment of liquor and beer, and Louis made the birthday cake from scratch. Zayn on the other hand, contributed his presence.  

The table was full of smiles as the birthday song finally came to an end. 

Except for the raven-haired boy with tattoos over his body. He wore a blank expression, crossing his arms across his chest and rolling his eyes. 

“Way to make it obvious,” he grumbled. “We all throw a big party for Niall Horan but when it was my birthday, all I got were lame excuses. ‘Happy birthday Zee.” He mimicked the boys voices. ‘Sorry we couldn’t throw you a party this year being in the States and all. We will throw you something special next year. You just wait and see.’ Yeah fucking right,” his voice remained dark and acidic. “Some fucking friends you are.”

“Come on there, mate,” Liam said softly. “Don’t be like that. This is Niall’s special day. Please don’t do this to him.”

“Because he’s your boyfriend and all,” Zayn said sarcastically. “Whatever.”

He scoffed at the four boys and walked off. 

“I’m over this shit.”

Zayn heard sobbing coming from the birthday boy when he walked out of the dining area, up the stairs to his room furthest down the hall. He slammed his door, loudly. Zayn wanted to make sure the boys heard him. After all, how could they do this to him? Celebrate Niall’s coming-of-age party, and all he got when he turned eighteen was a pat on the back and apologies. Even after they returned home, no one threw him a surprise party or bought him his first legal drink. He went to the bar alone and bought his first drink himself. No best friends would do that to you! Leave you hanging and make you feel like you’re unimportant! He had a right to be angry with all of them, no matter if today was  _Niall’s_  birthday. Sure he was ruining  _Niall’s_  birthday but  _Niall_  was a big boy. He could be able to handle what Zayn felt on his eighteenth birthday: shame, humiliation, a friend who didn’t care. 

And no matter how badly he felt about everyone not doing anything for his birthday, Zayn didn’t shed one tear. He already knew that the boys loved Niall better. He was the baby of the group anyway. Everyone watched over Niall, patted his shoulder, made him soup when he was sick, kissed his boo-boo’s and tucked him into bed at night. No one could resist the perfect, blonde-haired, blue-eyed angel that was so innocent and pure. The fans, Simon, hell, the whole world had fallen victim to his sweet, cute Irish self. 

Not Zayn though. He didn’t give a shit, when people stopped giving a shit about him. 

And that was January 12th, his good-for-nothing birthday. 

Zayn laid on top of his bed staring at the ceiling. Why did the boys hate him so much? Last year on their birthdays, Zayn hosted kick-ass parties for all four of the boys. He had invited all their families, friends and even a couple lucky fans that won tickets. There would be endless amount of liquor, food and good music. And what was his thanks for his special day? 

Absolutely nothing. 

There was a knock on the door. 

“Piss off,” Zayn yelled. 

The door opened slowly. A pair of enormous, glossy blue eyes appeared in the doorway, and Niall walked into the room holding a plate with a large slice of chocolate cake. On top of the sweet was one lit candle. Niall held his hand over the wick and smiled shyly when he made it to the edge of the bed. 

“It’s not much, Zee,” Niall said innocently, holding out the piece of cake. “I didn’t make a wish this year because I want you to have mine. I’m sorry that we didn’t do anything for your birthday but I want you to take my wish.”

Niall smiled cheekily, like a little boy. 

“I told you to piss off,” Zayn said darkly. “Keep your stupid fucking wish and get the hell out of my room.”

“But Zee,” Niall whimpered. His lip quivered. 

“I told you,” Zayn broke down each word with a pause, “to  _fuuuuck offffff_.”

Zayn turned his back towards Niall, hearing the Irish lad cry loudly while running out of the room. He exhaled heavily, forcing himself to sleep. 

Before he did, he felt a single tear fall from his cheek.

\----------------

Throughout the entire week Zayn remained moody and bitter while keeping a long distance away from all the boys. He had made it clear to each and every one of them that he didn’t want to be bothered, and to leave him alone for the remainder of their England tour. 

The other boys wondered what was wrong with Zayn but no one dared to ask. 

That is until one morning when the boys sat at the dining table again, sharing food and friendly conversation. Louis wore a white frilly apron that had “Sassy Chef” written on the front. He had gotten it as a gift from Liam for his birthday. He placed a buffet of food: eggs, pancakes, bacon, toast, sausage, the works for the boys and sat down next to Niall, pouring himself a cup of orange juice before sitting down. Zayn felt the need to distance himself from the boys, taking the furthest seat away from them and sipping a hot cup of coffee while smoking his breakfast. 

The gray air filled his lungs and he blew out the relieving steam from his nose. 

“Thanks for cooking, Lou,” Harry said taking a big bite of eggs. He flipped his head, moving a strand of curls from his face. “It taste really delicious. The best thing I’ve ever eaten.”

Louis smiled widely. “Thanks, Hazza! I try my best.”

Zayn scoffed and took another sip of coffee. 

“Something funny, eh Zayn?” Liam asked taking a bite of his apple. He always had a light breakfast, normally a cup of black coffee and some fruit. Out of all the boys, Liam was the one to take his health and exercise seriously. 

Zayn rolled his eyes, remaining mute. 

“You know you can always have a bite of the food I made,” Louis said. “I made more than enough and you’re always welcome to help yourself.”

“I rather eat a pile of dog shit before I eat your nasty ass cooking.”

Zayn sucked in the last of his cigarette. He blew out the air slowly and flicked his cigarette into the vase of flowers on the table. 

Louis teared. 

“You don’t have to be so mean,” the boy from Doncaster pouted.

“And you don’t have to be such a fag!” Zayn bellowed. “Grow some fucking balls Tomlinson and get rid of your nasty ass vagina!”

Louis cried hysterically. 

“THAT’S ENOUGH!” 

Harry slammed his fist, sending his plate of food across the entire table. “You’ve taken things too far!” He stood up kicking his chair back, grabbed Zayn by the collar and dragged him upstairs. 

Zayn fought against him but Harry was surprisingly stronger. He yanked Zayn up the stairs into his room and closed the door. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” Zayn shouted, catching himself before he fell to the ground. “You’re not my fucking Dad! You can’t push me around!”

Harry swiped his  belt off in one graceful move. 

Zayn’s eyes widened. 

“What the fuck are you doing?” His voice grew hysterical. “You gonna beat me?”

“Just know that this wasn’t intentional,” Harry replied. “First you ruin Niall’s birthday and now you’re calling your friend a fag? I will not endure your nasty attitude any longer." 

Harry took a firm grip of Zayn’s wrist, lying Zayn across his legs. 

“You stop this now, Harry! I mean it! You don’t have the fucking right to hit me!”

Zayn fought against the curly-haired boys grip but with his legs chained between Harry’s and his hand being held down, Zayn was utterly defenseless to what was about to happen. 

Harry brought Zayn’s jeans to his knees. 

“STOP IT NOT STYLES!” 

 _WHAACK!_  Zayn screamed from the top of his lungs. 

“I hate doing this,” Harry said, spanking Zayn with the belt. “But you’ve given me no other choice Zayn. You’ve been bitter and moody all week. No matter how many chances I give you, for you to straighten up your attitude, you have failed. This is nobody’s fault but your own. Understand that. It was you that decided to act like an ass.”

“Please stop, Harry!” Zayn cried. “It hurts! Please don’t hurt me!”

Harry brought his hand up, swiftly bringing the belt back against Zayn’s rear. 

 _“OW!”_  Zayn screamed. “Please stop Harry! I swear I won’t be such a dick!”

 _WHAACK!_ Zayn felt a stinging pain overwhelm his backside. There was no doubt that there would be bruises tomorrow. Zayn could feel the sharp sting of Harry’s belt come across his skin one last time before Harry released him. 

Zayn’s body fell limp in Harry’s lap. He didn’t move. 

The pain was unbearable but there was a reason why he stayed on top of Styles’s lap. Zayn could feel something poking his stomach and although his ass hurt like hell, he wouldn’t mind taking--- _that_  kind of beating. 

Zayn opened his mouth but Harry pushed him off, hurried Zayn out of the door and closed it behind him. 

Caught in a whirlwind of what happened, getting spanked from Harry and feeling his big erection pressed into his stomach, Zayn didn’t know what to think. However, he did know one thing. He needed to straighten out his attitude because he didn’t want to endure another beating from Harry Styles. 

\---------------------

None of the boys spoke about what happened that afternoon. Either they didn’t hear Zayn screaming for Harry to stop spanking him or they didn’t want to embarrass Zayn or maybe they just felt uncomfortable with hearing what went down, but Zayn was happy nobody brought it up. His attitude had changed considerably and although he still felt a little sad for not having a party for his eighteenth birthday, Zayn tried his best to suck it up. 

That Saturday, they all decided to head to a club in town to clear their minds from what happened. There was no better cure to forgetting, and also feeling numb(Zayn could still feel the bruises on his backside) then drinking the pain away. The boys were boosted to the VIP section of the club, and a few hours in, they were all drunk and having a good time. 

Zayn sat in the booth by himself as he watched his friends dance on the dance floor. Louis, Niall and Liam all found themselves a girl to dance with but Harry rocked his hips to the music without a partner. This got Zayn thinking. After he downed another shot, he moved to the dance floor, next to Harry and started to grind into his pelvis. 

The music is earsplitting but Zayn can hear Harry’s voice.

“What are you doing, Zayn?” Harry backed away.

Zayn closed in the distance, again, feeling his butt shift into Harry’s lap. There was no doubt that Harry Jr. was getting a little excited. 

Harry’s curls dropped against his forehead. 

“Don’t be so shy,” Zayn said, looking back. “When you were smacking me the other day, I could feel your erection poking into my stomach. You don’t have to be embarrassed Harry. I didn’t take you for a BDSM kind of person but I don’t mind if you’re a little kinky.” 

Zayn grabbed Harry’s chin, looking up into his green eyes. 

“I just wished you had beaten me with your friend down there, instead of your belt.”

Harry pulled away from the contact, looking off into the crowd, embarrassed, then walking away, towards the bar. 

“Suit yourself!” Zayn yelled over the music. “You know where to find me when you decide otherwise!”

Zayn fell into the techno music, gyrating his hips and joining the other dancers as they continued to dance the night away.

\----------------

When Harry made it to the bar he could barely breathe. What was taking over him? He was having feelings---feelings for Zayn. A boy. His mate. What was wrong with him? His main goal in life is to have a family, and how exactly is he going to get that when he’s falling for another dude? 

“Stop acting silly, Styles.” Harry tapped his forehead, trying his best to let the thought soak into his mind. He wasn’t gay. He liked women. 

End of story. 

The beautiful blonde bartender asked for his order. He stared at her for awhile, trying to make himself feel for the women like he was starting to feel with Zayn but it was hopeless. 

“Your drink? I have more people to tend to.”

Harry shook his head to clear his mind. “A line of your hardest whiskey.”

The blonde nodded. She grabbed five shot glasses from under the bar, lined them in front of Harry and filled each one to the brim with a brown, strong-scented liquid. 

Harry took the first shot feeling it burn down his esophagus. Then the other, until he downed his last shot, still thinking about the raven-haired boy. What was wrong with him? He couldn’t be gay . . . could he? 

Harry looked around him for some pretty girls. There were a lot of women around the bar but even after the whiskey, none of them compared to Zayn. Glancing to the dance floor, he spotted Zayn looking directly at him. Harry realized that there was a tall, slightly tan man behind of Zayn, grinding against him. 

There was no mistake that Zayn’s eyes were on Harry’s. It was intense. 

The stranger sucked on Zayn’s neck and pushed against him like they were having sex on the dance floor or something. 

Harry stared into Zayn’s hazel eyes, feeling his blood boil. He turned back around to the bar. “Another line of shots now!” 

\-----------------

When Harry turned away from him, Zayn knew that he had him. For the entire time he danced with the guy behind him, he was waiting to catch Harry’s attention. And when he finally got it, it was just so . . . hot and intense. Harry stared at him with angry eyes. He must be feeling something for Zayn to look like a grizzly bear ready to rip a salmon into shreds. 

“What say we take this outside, babe,” the well-dressed, older man whispered.

“Sure,” Zayn said, waiting for Harry to find his eyes again. “I can use a smoke.”

The man grabbed Zayn’s waist and ushered him through the crowd until they were in the alley, Zayn already taking a cigarette out of his back pocket. 

“Smoke?” Zayn offered, holding out his pack of cigarettes. He placed the stick between his lips. 

“No,” the man said, pushing Zayn against the wall. 

“Easy there buddy.”

The man sucked at Zayn’s neck. Zayn pushed on the guy’s shoulder but he didn’t budge. The stranger placed a hand on Zayn’s stomach, pining him against the wall. 

“Slow down there, mate. I think you got the wrong impression.”

“Wrong impression or not, this ass is mine.” The guy squeezed Zayn’s ass. 

“Stop,” Zayn said sternly. “I need to smoke.”

“We can have a smoke after we fuck,” the man whispered, licking a trail from Zayn’s neck to his lips. When he shoved his tongue into Zayn’s mouth, Zayn bit hard. 

The stranger shoved Zayn harder against the wall. 

“You fucking bitch!” he shouted. “Now you’re really gonna get it.” 

Zayn walked off but the older man pushed him to the ground and jumped on top of him. Pining Zayn down, the guy pushed down his pants, freeing his erection.

“Stop it now!” Zayn screamed, fighting against him. 

Throughout the fighting, the older man has gotten Zayn’s jeans and boxers to his ankles.

“HARRY!”

“My name’s Marco, but whatever floats your boat,” he smiled, spitting into his hand. 

“HARRY! HELP ME! PLEASE!” Zayn cried. 

Zayn’s ass hurt even more when the man shoved inside of him. Zayn’s stomach flipped and he cried Harry’s name from the top of his lungs. 

“Marco, baby,” he moaned, swiftly pushing inside of Zayn. “Scream Marco.”

“HAAAAAARRRRRRYYYY!” he cried, tears running down his face. “SAVE ME HARRY! HAAAAAARRRRRYYY!”

The older man forced his mouth back onto Zayn’s lips. 

“You’re so fucking tight babe,” Marco moaned. 

“Please stop!” Zayn fought back. “Please stop! HARRY!”

“I’m gonna cum deep inside of you,” Marco rested his head in the nook of Zayn’s neck and shoulder. “Best ass I’ve ever fucked. Scream my name babe. Marco.  _Oooo_. Marco.”

“HARRY!” Zayn screamed. He closed his eyes, feeling ready to throw up at the feeling of being violated. 

The weight is finally off of him and Zayn thinks that Marco is done. 

When he opens his eyes, Harry is on top of Marco, landing perfect punches in his face. 

Zayn sits up, his ass hurting real bad. He wiped the tears from his eyes, trying to stop crying but ending in failure. 

Blood is everywhere: on Harry’s knuckles, on his clothes, on the sidewalk. 

Marco is groaning from the ground, Harry landing punches all over the older man’s body. 

“I’m gonna kill you, you fucking piece of shit!”

Zayn rested his hand on Harry’s shoulder. 

Marco’s face is full of blood, bruises and swelling. Harry breathed heavily, punching Marco once more in the face before standing up and kicking him in the gut. 

“I hope you die,” he spat, being pulled by Zayn as they haul a cab home. 

Once they’re home, Harry carries Zayn to the bathroom where he showers him, places bandages over the cuts and rubs medication on the bruises. Not once did Harry look Zayn in the eyes. After placing the last band-aid on Zayn’s left cheek, Harry spoke.

“I’m . . . so . . . sorry . . . Zayn . . .” 

And like that, Harry is crying in Zayn’s lap. 

“If I wasn’t so . . . stupid, none of this would have happened! I should have just been honest with my feelings and told you how I feel! I’m sorry.”

Zayn twirled his fingers in Harry’s curls. 

“How do you feel about me?” Zayn asked softly. 

Harry looked up, his eyes red-rimmed and running. “I---,” he stuttered. “I think you need to get some rest.”

Both the boys sighed. 

Zayn was the first to get up and he headed to the living room and sat down on the couch. He could feel his butt burning from both yesterday and . . . tonight’s event. He turned on the television and picked a random channel. 

Harry appeared and took the seat next to Zayn. Slowly, he wrapped Zayn in his arms and Zayn smiled, cuddling up next to the curly-haired giant. Harry felt warm and Zayn felt protected. 

“I feel,” Harry sighed. “I feel that I might be in love with you.”

They looked each other in the eyes. 

“I want to protect you Zayn. I want to be your boyfriend.”

“Harry,” Zayn managed, feeling out of breath. 

“Please be my boyfriend, Zayn.” Harry brushed his curls to the side of his forehead. “I understand if you don’t want to. I might not be much to look at or . . . something, but I will do my best to make you happy and keep you safe. Please say yes.”

A tear down Zayn’s cheek. 

“Yes,” he whispered. “Absolutely, Harry. I love you.”

Harry leaned down slowly, placing a soft kiss on Zayn’s lips. 


End file.
